


your paint is peeling around the edges, dear

by eighteenavenues



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Next-Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighteenavenues/pseuds/eighteenavenues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And she's firefirefire and a whirlwind of burning hair and glares and playful pushes.  'Cause he's her friend  nothing more, never anything more  and she loves him like a brother, they have inside jokes and plenty of reasons to laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your paint is peeling around the edges, dear

**Author's Note:**

> Weird style on this one. I was just playing around, but I like it well enough to publish it here.

She's always the girl smiling and laughing and  _oh-so very_  happy. Surrounded by a group of friends and  **admirers**  alike who attend to her every wish and whim, she's always th n, the person in the middle of the circle in her tighttighttight miniskirt and slouchy black books and kohl rimmed eyes with a  _not-so_  painted on smile. When she feel they piece her back together, like an eggshell she is  **delicate** , but she has soso strong shoulders for others to lean on.

And she's never been one for relationships, because sh dependence (people always let you down _, you know_ ).

And she's firefirefire and a whirlwind of  _burning_  hair and glares and playful pushes. 'Cause he's her friend (nothing more, never anything more) and she loves him  **like a brother,** they have inside jokes and plenty of reasons to laugh and he gives  _damn_  good massages.

She'll  **never**  be Juliet because she doesn't  _believe_  in Romeo but she still reads happyhappy romance novels. She's never been one for damsels-in-distress so she laughs at their silly swooning and only wishes ( _at night, when she's alone_ ) that she could be  _rescued_  by a handsome knight in shineshineshining armor.

And it's the middle of the day, the sun is still pretty high in the  _blueblueblue-as-her-eyes_  sky but the air is chilly and her head is  **pounding**. So she gives a little smile that makes hi into a puddle and then rests her heavy head on his shoulders, and  _yeah_ , they're slightly  **too**  angular and not quiet perfectly comfortable but it doesn't really matter to her because she's so  _close to him_  she can hear his heart beatbeatbeating and it's bliss. And the world seems to stop turning just for a little bit, so  **perfect** ly still and quiet just for them. Her eyes droop down until they close and her breathin into a steady rhythm and she allows her mind to wander to a place so far away but almost tangible where he confesses his love and kisses her. And she's  **always**  sworn that she'd never be the pathetic girl to fall at his feet (so unlike her cousins, she is) but she can't ignore the fact that  **she's his**  so totally and completely.

He can't think straight because her hand is  _tangled_  in his and her head is resting on his shoulder and her eyelashes are brushing her cheeks. The world, for once, i and peaceful. But his head is sagging and his eyes are fluttering shut and he is so tired of thinking of only one thing ( _herherher_ ). And so his neck bows and he slips into a dream that's  **only a little** better than the reality of their current closeness.

She opens her eyes to a  _blurry_  world, and glances over at his still form. Around them people are talktalktalking but the words don't mean as much because nothing could be any more real than the gentle rise and fall of his chest. And she (slowly) realizes that she is, possibly for the first time in her life,  **content**.

He's iceiceice but she's not freezing because he warms them both quite nicely,  _thank you very much._


End file.
